Window Watching
by Undercover Duck
Summary: His whole life, Silver's always been on the wrong side of the window, on the outside looking in at something he can't have. That part of it-the watching, the wanting, the loss-is always the same. It's how Silver deals with each moment, and what he takes away, that makes all the difference.
1. Different

-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~ **Different** ~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-

A thin layer of soft-looking snow dusted the city, leaving the roads slippery with ice and slush. A small red-haired child stumbled around down the sidewalk, the perfect miniature of the willowy woman who chased after him good-naturedly. Both were smiling and laughing.

No one watching would ever guess they were fragments of a broken home.

It was a few days till Christmas, and what with the weather and bustle of shoppers and caroling moods all around, it was a perfect opportunity for mother and son to take a little holiday of their own. Traipsing through parks and slip-sliding down brightly decorated city streets, they could easily forget that they were any different from the other happy families shopping all around them.

Until they arrived at the candy store.

"But Mama, please," the child implored, gray eyes tracing the awfully tempting outline of an elaborately-decorated candy cane displayed in the window. The chocolate coating was a dark and rich color, the delicate stripes of white icing were perfectly even, and the red sprinkles made it positively lively and festive-looking.

"I'm sorry, honey, but we can't get that." His mother crouched down next to him, at his level. "I can't afford it right now."

Innocent, curious eyes met pained, guarded ones. "Why?"

She hesitated. "You'll understand someday, Silver, sweetie," she whispered, her voice barely able to be heard over the noise of others Christmas shopping around them.

Silver allowed her to take his hand and gently pry it away from the windowsill, let her pull him away. He watched the candy cane until it was completely out of sight.


	2. Colorless

-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~ **Colorless** ~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-

 _Beep. Beep. Beep._

Nothing made sense in this weird world where everything was white. The walls. The furniture. The bedsheets. The tall, quiet people's clothing. The hair of the man who kept coming in and out, in and out of the room. All white.

Silver didn't know what to make of it, but he was pretty sure he didn't like it.

Especially that noise. _Beep. Beep. Beep._ He wished it would stop.

As the tall man once again walked briskly past without a word, Silver once again twisted around in his chair, clambering into a standing position so he could just barely see through the window. Curtains—white again—covered most of it, but _just_ where he stood there was a gap. Through it, he could see his mother, so strange-looking while asleep in this white world, with her white bedcovers and the white walls and the white floor and her white face. Her red hair stood out shockingly against the white pillow, a jarring resistance against the stifling, colorless world.

Silver was quite a rebel himself, all decked out in his usual black and red. If he looked hard enough, he could see his reflection in the window. His own red hair, so like his mother's, was getting to be just past his ears in length—his mother wouldn't like that, he knew. She hadn't taken him to the barber's in such a long time, it seemed. She hadn't taken him anywhere in such a long time.

It was beyond his six-year-old mind to fully comprehend, but somehow he felt he was losing her. Somehow, this reminded him of how he had stood outside that candy shop just about a year ago, wishing for something he couldn't have.

 _Beep. Beep. Beep._

A screen in the room was making movements that seemed in sync with the beeping. But something was weird… The beeping sounded the same every time, but the movements on the screen did not. Silver stared, transfixed, totally nonplussed.

 _Beep. Beep._

That same day, he watched as a group of the people in white clothes pulled the white sheets up over his mother's head, covering her bright red hair from sight. Silver had no way of understanding it, but that day a prominent source of color faded from his world.


	3. Gym

~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~ **Gym** ~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~

"What's that?"

"Slot machine."

"What's it for?"

"Gamblin'."

"What's that?"

"Well, it's… Pfft, why don't you ask your father?"

"Where is he?"

At this the disgruntled lackey finally looked up at him. He didn't seem to know what to say, so the two ended up staring at each other.

After a rather tense silence, Silver nodded at the poster the grunt was taping to the wall. "Won't people think it's weird, when you all keep reaching behind that poster? And disappear into the wall?"

The man snorted. "Think you're smart, do ya? What're you, eight?"

"Nine!" Silver huffed.

"Whatever! Stop askin' questions and...go and play or something."

Without a word Silver turned and swept out the door, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He was used to this kind of behavior from adults. Not a single one seemed to know what to do with him, and couldn't be bothered to deal with him for longer than ten minutes.

His father included.

In fact, Silver reflected as he meandered moodily down a random street in Celadon City, he got more bonding time with the average grunt than with his father. Sometimes a month would go by without seeing him at all, and he would almost forget his father's face. Other times, he'd see him every day but never speak with him. Although Silver preferred the former, he decided that even the latter was preferable to outright abuse.

Before he knew it his feet had carried him within sight of the gym. More out of habit than anything, he set off towards it, planning on peering in through the window as usual. It fascinated him to watch Trainer after Trainer challenge the gym, proving their skill. A fair number would eventually reach the Leader and scrape a win. A few would blow through the whole gym with no trouble at all. But Silver's favorites were those that fell short, because he loved to watch them come back again and again… He would be able to see the results of their training every time, the little extra move or technique or firepower they brought to the table. And eventually, they would win.

He wanted to be part of a world like that, where even failures could become winners if they were simply stubborn enough to never give up.

He rounded the corner of the gym and stopped short—his window was taken. A balding, gray-haired man stood slightly stooped by the window, hands cupped eagerly to the glass to better see inside. And although Silver couldn't place what it was, something about the scene made it seem...odd. Out of place. Wrong.

The old man must have heard Silver approach, for he gave a guilty start and shuffled away from the window. Clearing his throat, he redirected his gaze to the sign above the gym. "This gym is great," he declared, a little too loudly. When Silver didn't say anything, the man's pale gaze flitted over for a second, and saw the boy's doubtful expression. "It's full of women," he clarified, nodding smartly and shuffling on past Silver and around the corner out of sight.

Silver didn't see what that had to do with much of anything, but somehow he no longer felt like watching the Trainers. Giving the window one last puzzled look, he trudged on away, deciding he'd spend his day doing something else.

He never visited the window again.


	4. Necessity

-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~ **Necessity** ~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-

How had he gotten here?

The very thing he needed so desperately was right there… He could see it clearly, nestled so snugly in its protective case. So inviting. So out of reach.

Why did it have to come to this?

He should have made his move hours ago. A few perfect opportunities had come and gone—the man was just too absent-minded for his own good. But Silver hadn't acted. He'd watched through the window, snapped at that pestering local girl, slipped into the nearby trees to pace and fret, then returned to the window again.

He caught himself fiddling with a loose thread from the hem of his jacket sleeve, and let go instantly. This jacket would have to last him a long time, he knew. It was enough struggle to feed himself; what little funds he had were dwindling at an alarming rate.

Which brought him back to his current dilemma.

If only he could train a Pokémon… If he was any good whatsoever, he'd be able to have at least a bit of instant cash on his hands. His fingers found the bag strap secured around his shoulder. His survival depended on the little provisions and money that he kept in it.

The necessity was there. The solution was right before his eyes.

But it would require theft.

It wasn't as if he'd never stolen before. In the past couple of years since running away, he'd staked his existence by less desirable means, thievery being the primary one. But he'd only ever pilfered from crooks before.

This was different.

The professor paused in his work and suddenly got up and strode out the door. Silver could hear his footsteps on the stairs that led up to the living area above… Now was his chance. He couldn't delay it anymore.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Silver opened the window swiftly and silently, with an expert hand, slid himself inside, snatched the nearest Pokéball, and was back out the way he came all within a minute. He left no trace but the missing Pokémon itself.

It was done.


	5. Powerful

-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~ **Powerful** ~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-

He'd told her he wouldn't watch. He couldn't stand to do it. It'd border on unbearable.

He'd said he wouldn't.

He stopped walking away, and turned back instead.

 _Just a peek,_ he promised himself as he reached the window.

It was quite a sight. Just moments ago he'd gotten his own taste of the Kimono Girls' power—it was mesmerizing to see how Lyra rose to match it, the sheer challenge of it pushing her to reach a new level.

She didn't just do well under pressure. She _thrived._ That's what made her such a powerful opponent.

Silver could see that Lyra was struggling even against the first Kimono Girl, but even so she moved on to the next…and the next… Before Silver knew it, Lyra stood in front of the last. And he was still here at the window, hand clenched on the sill.

 _Get a grip,_ he scolded himself furiously, snatching his hand away from the window and forcing himself to let go of the breath he'd been holding. _You said you wouldn't watch._

With immense effort, he pried his gaze from the window and turned away, trudging on down the street.

He forced himself not to look back.


	6. Family

-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~ **Family** ~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-

 _"Who saved us all from Satin's power, when we were gone astray…"_

The familiar carol floated out into the night from a church down the street. As he passed, Silver tried to recall the name, but had a bit of difficulty. Some of the lyrics were lost on the wind, and it had been years since he'd last heard the tune, anyway.

He kept walking.

It was Christmas Eve, so the street was quiet. Twinkling lights cast a colorful glow onto the glittering snow that lay in heaps beside the street. Serene. Beautiful.

Lonely.

Before long, Silver found himself in the residential area of the small town, where even more lights and color sprang out at him from everywhere. Not a house was dark—gingerbread, icicle, nativity scene… None of the houses were exactly the same, but each were festive in their own way, as quiet or as boisterous as they liked.

Not all the windows featured a glimpse of a Christmas tree, but most of them featured a family inside, celebrating together with cookies or laughter or drinks or big dinners or a cozy fire to sit around. Occasionally Silver would pause for a second in his walking to watch them. They were all so happy.

Family was something he hadn't had in a while. But a _happy_ family… Silver doubted he'd ever had that to begin with.

 _"And with true love and brotherhood each other now embrace…"_

The song again caught Silver's ears, coming from somewhere else this time. He shook himself out of his thoughts and continued walking, listening for the source of the sound.

When he finally reached it, he was standing at the very end of the lane, where a rather small house was decorated modestly with a weather-worn nativity scene and a straggle of half-burned-out red and green lights adorning the bushes. The song was drifting out of the kitchen window, where Silver could just make out a mother and daughter laughing and baking cookies.

But...that wasn't…

Without thinking, Silver's feet carried him a few steps forward up the front walk as he recognized Lyra. She looked different, with her hair down for once, and dressed in a sweater and jeans instead of the overalls he was accustomed to seeing her in, but it was her. Smiling. Happy.

The rest of the house was dark, and she and her mother were the only people to be seen in the kitchen.

 _"O, tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy, O tidings of comfort and joy…"_

Maybe Silver wasn't the only one who came from a broken home.


	7. Helpless

-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~ **Helpless** ~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-*-~~-

Christmas certainly wasn't Silver's favorite time of year. He put his head down as he jostled his own way through the dense crowd of Christmas shoppers that swarmed the streets of Goldenrod. Why were they all so frenetic, so...hurried? It was only December 11th. They had time. But regardless, they were noisy and bustling and downright irritating.

Silver didn't mean to be such a Scrooge. He even figured that he might like Christmas a lot, if only things were a little different.

But they weren't.

He finally reached the Department Store, and waded through even more excitable shoppers to get to the elevator, and then to the shelves, and then to the counter as he proceeded to shop for Trainer's supplies. Even the everyday items were subject to Christmas shopping hubbub, as parents and friends of Trainers scrambled for high-quality goods to give as gifts.

He was on his way back to the elevator, his shopping done, when he passed by a shelf where a little girl was begging her father to buy her the newest Poké Doll. The father looked exhausted; there were faint circles under his eyes, he had a five-o-clock shadow over the lower half of his face, and his thick winter coat looked as if it had seen better days. Despite this, his hair was neatly combed, and his eyes were kind—a young man aged early by a harsh life.

Silver felt compelled to stop and watch them as the girl tugged her father's sleeve, chattering excitedly and pointing at the Clefable doll—"This one has _wings,_ Daddy!"—even as her father sadly shook his head and sighed, "No, sweetheart, we can't get that now. We've got to buy the groceries."

"But Daddy—"

"Maybe next year, Tori."

The pair walked away, but Silver remained rooted to the spot, staring at the row of Clefables. What had he just witnessed? The scene was all too familiar. His chest felt constricted with emotion as he thought about how helpless he had been, helpless to be part of a normal family, helpless to save his mother, helpless to mean anything to his father.

He approached the shelf, looking for a price tag. P1000. He took a deep breath, let it out, and ran a hand through his hair as he thought. Twice a week he dished out P3000 to Lyra when he lost to her. What was 1000 to him?

Minutes later, he caught the father and daughter just before they boarded the elevator. "Sir? Sir?" The man turned, utterly surprised to be addressed by a total stranger. Silver swallowed nervously—how was he going to explain this? "Sir, I...I couldn't help but overhear you and your daughter earlier, and—" He cut himself short, and instead of finishing his sentence he reached into his shopping bag and pulled out the Clefable doll. The girl gasped with childish delight, but Silver glanced at the father, apologetic. "I hope you don't mind," he said weakly.

The father regarded Silver for a long minute before mutely nodding. Silver turned to the girl, crouching down at her level as he presented her the doll. "Merry Christmas," he whispered.

The girl was grinning from ear to ear as she took the doll. She hugged it to herself, and her gray-blue eyes were locked on Silver's as she whispered back, "Thank you."

"Come on, Tori," her father said, gently taking her hand and turning her back toward the elevator. "Time to go home." Silver straightened up, and the man turned to shake his hand. "Thanks, young man. Thanks a ton." Silver nodded back in response, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

After boarding the elevator, the girl looked back once more, catching Silver's eye, still grinning. Silver found himself smiling back, wider than he had in a while.

Maybe he wasn't so helpless anymore.


End file.
